by G.O. Clark The old poetsits by the windowin his ancestral farmhouse,along a New Hampshirerural highway. He looks out uponthe tree lush landscape,rain beads on the windowpane gently blurringthe scene. His gaze shifts tothe old wooden barn,once a working one filledwith farm tools, now justa still life. It’s enough in…
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Posts Tagged Moons
Kiss Of The Cantaloupe
by James Jackson Sweet-suckled Slovenian lips– Cleveland where I found you, Columbus were you lost. Some days a black blanket we would lay under to seek stars seeking something cold & how our temperatures dropped over the years. We’d burn nights matchstick young, whiskey and coke, peel clothes to cool–…